


One More Time

by Marururu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Jean has a daughter, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, bc we all need angst in our lives, jeanmarco, sad ending sorry :C, sasha is jean's wife bc i love her so much as well as jeansasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 20:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10170977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marururu/pseuds/Marururu
Summary: After years without seeing each other, Jean and Marco meet in the least expected place. An encounter with the person who broke your heart because of a whim and who is now a few meters away from you.Sighs, sad smiles and that typical things about a break up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so nervous hahaha. Sorry for the spelling, grammar or vocabulary mistakes, English is not my first language ;; (so cliché, I know).

Many years had passed without seeing each other’s faces. It had indeed been many years, so it wasn’t one of those cheesy phrases people say, like “many days had passed” when the season hasn’t even changed yet. They saw each other in a different way, with a life that was already built up, but with an aspect of it that had been left unsolved in the past. It had been entirely their fault, but they were too coward to even admit that fact with themselves and with their own pillows during the nights. 

 

Sighs for both of them had become something regular in their lives, something of their everyday lives, something such as blinking. Their story was an important side of their lives and each of their partners were aware of it. Sometimes they were just having breakfast or having lunch when a sigh left their bodies. Some old people say that a sigh is a reflexion of how much do you miss someone and that that person misses you too; therefore, the air that leaves your body is either because it is needed or because you have too many inside you and that that belongs to somebody else. 

 

Jean’s daughter was always bringing out that habit to her father. Actually, sometimes she counted the times the man with the undercut did that action; the most she had counted had been 5 of them in an hour. “A new record, daddy”, she had said and the only thing that Jean could do was to smile with melancholia.

 

A smile, but not a real one, it was always done with a little bit of melancholia… another habit, another action, an oxymoron in itself which had become another part of his personality. However, real smiles appeared on his face once in a blue moon (because not everything in this world can be that bad, right?). He had these smiles when your teeth show, when your eyes close and you radiate happiness through your pores, even if those times were counted with the fingers of both hands. Most of the time they were thanks to his wife who knew almost all of it, who knew that he had been in a relationship with Marco for many years; she knew that Jean had loved him very deeply but in relation to what her husband had told her, that strong love between them had died. A liar, that’s how he felt, adding to that a miserable man and a coward. The last part was because he hadn’t fought for him, even though he hadn’t been the only one to blame, and he knew it, but it was almost impossible trying not to wonder what would have happened if... or if… and many “what if…” filled his mind in the nights during the year, especially at the beginning of all that situation. Of course that with the course of the years it didn’t hurt as much as it did before, but there were still remains of some kindlings in his heart that reminded him of the past.

 

On the other hand, Marco didn’t spend much time thinking about the past during the nights at that time because he has always been that kind of people who put their heads in their pillows and fall asleep right away (or anywhere, actually). However, he did think about it during the day. He was a person who lived when the sun did, therefore his pain was intense during those hours the first couples of months. It had definitely been the worst period of his life. On weekends he didn’t go out, he didn’t write on his blog, didn’t open his cell phone, nothing at all. The only thing he did was watching tv for months in the mornings. After that, he made lunch, later he did some other things. Then, he went to bed earlier. Many days like those passed, even months. During the week, he fought even more. The stress only made that internal battle even worse, especially on his way home: that was a real torture. He always feared meeting him on the bus or on the streets and not being able to pass through him. 

 

_ How had things ended the way they did at the end?  _

 

In one of his way home from work, he met his partner. He was a good man and thoughtful man who loved him very much. His boyfriend knew about his past with Jean, as well as Jean’s partner, but of course with the same missing piece in the puzzle than Jean’s lover. 

 

He also sighed, even though he didn’t do it as much as Jean. However, when he did it, he felt it as a force inside him. At the beginning he sighed at every moment, when he was full of work and when he had nothing to do; on his vacations, in the shower, always a little bit but also every day a little bit less than the day before, until today, when he sighed once in awhile and the air that left his body reminded him of the past.

 

Today it was one of those days in which Marco had a day off, therefore he had decided to go shopping early that morning. Today, a year ago, they had started living in the city, so Marco was decided to cook a delicious dinner for him and his lover in this rainy. Marco had made a grocery list for the things he was going to need for the dinner and for the rest of the week, but he left it at home. Sometimes he thought that it was funny to be forgetful but not being able to forget the man who had made him suffer.  _ The irony _ , he told himself while he smiled with a smiled which tasted as bitterness.

 

_ And it happened. _

 

Marco saw him. He saw the cause of his lack of attention during the first years and the man he had sworn not to see or speak ever again in his life. Jean was with a little girl. She was pointing to what seemed to be apples covered in chocolate, while Jean was standing dressed with a light brown coat, comfy shoes, jeans and a black beanie. His features had not changed but clearly, he was another person. He felt like his heart had taken an 180-degree turn and couldn’t be brought to normal. He felt inside of those typical American romantic comedy movies where the teenage girl sees her high school crush and doesn’t know how to behave. 

_Great,_ _this was the only thing that couldn’t happen and happened_ , thought Marco while his eyes were wide open and his face had an expression he didn’t even know how to explain. 

 

He hadn’t forgotten him and he never will. 

 

His heart started beating faster than a minute ago. 

 

He wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. 

 

Marco saw a hand approaching him and he was sure his heart was leaving his chest at that very moment, however it was only an old lady asking a few thing that he couldn’t understand (maybe an “are you ok?” type of question) and suddenly he felt a little bit embarrassed and stupid because he thought it was one of those hands he didn’t remember how good they felt all over his skin. Marco nodded to the question that he thought the lady had asked. The lady simply turned over and started walking ignoring the guy who apparently hadn’t heard her at all. The man with freckles looked to the path that was ahead of him and looked at Jean for the last time before turning and walking to the exit of the market. 

  
  


*******

 

His daughter was happy. She liked the rain, the same as his wife. So, going to the street market made her even happier, especially because there were fruits covered in chocolate. He was taking out this wallet from his pocket while he was looking down, but suddenly a presentiment attacked him and he had to look to his right. It was, without a doubt, one of the only correct hunchs of his life because he saw Marco just a meters away from him. Marco was wearing a black coat and a plum scarf that unintentionally matched his freckles. 

 

_ Oh God _ . He felt like dying. His heart started beating fast, so fast full of all type of emotions going through his body, making his heart beating even faster in heartbeats that he hadn’t felt in years and that only belonged to the man that was far away from him. It was as if a Pandora’s box that was kept inside him had finally exploded; as if the only thing that could had opened it could had been the fact that he had seen him one more time. 

 

Damn, fuck, fuckity fuck, god damn it, and a thousand more bad words crossed his mind. He couldn’t move but he wanted to, he wanted to run, but he wasn’t sure if what he wanted to do was to chase Marco or if he wanted to take Sophie and to run to his house to repeat himself that all this hadn’t happened. 

  
  


*******

 

He had to buy some things, otherwise, he was going to get home empty handed. Adding to that fact that he was going to have no vegetables or ingredients to prepare dinner, which was only going to be worse because he knew he was going to end up being lost in his thoughts and he didn’t want that for this special day. He made up his mind and decided to get the ingredients as fast as he could, not pay attention to that man over there and get out as fast as possible. So, he went back to the street market and walked by the aisle he was in. 

 

*******

 

Jean was being moved by her little daughter. The girl was touching his right sleeve while she repeatedly said “daddy, daddy”. After hearing his daughter calling him, Jean left his inner world to enter the real world. At first, his daughter seemed far away from him, but she was standing right beside him. 

 

“Daddy!,” said Sophie. “Are you going to buy it for me, or no?” said the girl while she made a cute face and a pout with her lips. 

 

“Yes, darling. Sorry, I was just thinking,” said Jean, but his daughter was no longer listening to him after giving her the approval. 

 

Jean took out his wallet, took the money and made the transaction. Sophie was happy so that they finally could go down the hall and to the right to the man with freckles who had previously disappeared. 

 

Only a few second were needed so that Jean could see Marco again. Jean could have sworn that Marco was even taller than the last time he saw him. 

 

He wanted to run, or at least walk a little bit faster. So, he took Sophie and started to walk in the crowd. He couldn’t lose him, no, not this time, he repeated himself over and over again as it was possible on that short walk. He was getting closer. What was going to say to him? There was no time now. Not being entirely conscious of his own acts, he moved his legs a little bit faster than before and reached the shoulder of the other man. 

  
  


*******

 

They met there, in that hall, the same from which Marco tried to escape 5 minutes ago. Jean touched his shoulder and made him face him at the time that Jean pronounced his name, and he saw it. They eyes had met in the way he had sworn not to do again in the rest of his life. Marco didn’t know how it had happened, but they spoke to each other with some formal words, a couple of hellos, how are you doing and how’s life. Marco touched one of Sophie’s hand as an introduction as Jean’s friend because Jean hadn’t come up with a better idea. 

 

The girl was cute and had the same hair as Jean and overall she looked similar to Jean expect in one detail that was foreign to all that “Jeaniness”: her eyes. Her eyes belonged to a whole different person, the shape as well as the color of them, however, something of Jean could be seen in them. They were other people, definitely

 

Jean asked him what was he doing there and he told him the truth but hiding the fact that he had left his home earlier today trying to avoid keeping fighting with James. 

 

*******

 

Jean offered him to continue shopping together because he had some still pending. What he hadn’t expected was that his wife appeared a couple of minutes later with a worried face. She had told him to tell her the next time where he was going to be shopping for her not to worry about them. 

 

Sasha was a tall woman with brown hair and eyes. Marco had recognized her because they had been classmates in a couple of courses at university. Whoever who dare to say that it hadn’t been an awkward moment was going straight to hell because the hell it had been. She said “hi” to Marco, who replied with a nice smile and giving her his hand, but Sasha approached him and kiss him on the cheek (actually they only touched with their cheeks and both of them threw a kiss to the air). A few minutes later after a polite chat, but not least entertaining, Sasha offered to take Sophie home so that Jean could speak more relaxed with his friend. 

 

Jean knew that his wife knew, but he couldn’t do any thing than to thank her inside him while he looked at her with an intensity that Sasha hadn’t ever seen. They were going to talk about this later… he supposed.

 

*******

 

They did everything except shopping. 

 

They immediately left the market to a park near it and sat in a bank. 

 

For a while, they didn’t do another thing than sighing.

 

It was quite funny than the cause of that action was sitting next to each other. 

 

They had an argument. 

 

At first, they laughed about the funny situation they were in. Because... who does meet with the person that made you suffer after having a relatively normal, or at least, stable life? There was nothing else to do than laugh. 

 

Both were close to their 30s, but only 7 years ago they were in a completely different situation.    
Marco had been afraid of how much he did love Jean and went away. Just that. He wanted to try new things, go out, kiss who he wanted to or to be with someone who wanted to be with him and not necessarily the person he loved with all his heart. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to find that special something he had with his soulmate, but he took the risk anyway and left. When he decided to comeback, which was going to be the time to be with that special person, the other one wasn’t there waiting for him anymore. He was tired of waiting for him so he left now, left the city and later on he left the country for a couple of years. 

 

Marco had always blamed himself because of that, but he was young and to be honest he had no fucking idea of what he was thinking back then. Of course that if he hadn’t made that decision he wouldn’t be who he is today and he didn’t know if that idea liked him 100%. 

 

Jean was a French teacher according to what he had told him while they left the market, and he had a little workshop downtown in which he had his paintings (his “little ones” as he said). He painted mostly flowers, the planets, the space and landscapes. He rarely painted people because that reminded him of when he made sketches of Jean while he slept, played or cooked in the apartment they shared with their friend after college. 

  
  


“I loved you so much… did you know?,” Jean started after that they had been in silence only looking the grass beneath them, the trees and the cars that passed by. 

 

Marco wanted to say “yes”, but he decided to remain silent and let Jean express himself because he knew, or at least expected to still know, that that had required a lot of Jean’s effort. 

 

“I always waited for you, but you never came back so I had to leave because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t go to the places we used to go together without you there… it was impossible. You have no idea how many nights I spent thinking what did I do wrong… Maybe if I hadn’t asked you to marry me you wouldn’t have run away like you did because our relationship was a little bit “too serious”. Whatever… It hurt me, you know. You have no idea how many nights I spent thinking of you, do you? But I was tired of waiting for you so I left without telling anyone. Well… I told the people who I care about with the condition that if you did come back someday they wouldn’t tell you where I was… But how was I supposed to know that you would never ask about me. We had it all and  _ you _ ruined it. Sorry, I’m lying… How do you say it? Oh yeah, of course:  _ we _ ruined it. 

 

Finally, after all those years, that words had left his chest. Maybe they weren’t the big words or the great speech he had prepared in his mind for this moment (that, to be honest, were enough to fill a whole book full of essays dedicated to this topic), but in general terms, they were what he wanted to say. 

 

Jean covered his face with his hands and in two seconds he started to scrub his face with his hands in an attempt to make himself not to cry because two tears wanted to leave his eyes. 

 

_ Great, _ thought Marco, this couldn’t have been a better moment. He already felt the worst person on the planet for calling James “Jean” that morning. Who the hell had told him to get a boyfriend with a similar name than to his most important ex?!.  _ Karma is a real bitch,  _ Marco often thought. But in that moment he didn’t feel angry or something similar… he felt sad. He knew  _ this  _ was the perfect moment to apologize to the person who had suffered the most because of his own immaturity. 

 

“Jean, I…,” Marco said while he wanted to start telling Jean all the thing that he had done wrong too, like all those years that Jean had spent without calling him, and many other things, but Marco decided to say other words instead. “I’m so sorry, Jean… Forgive me. I know I was a fool, a stupid man and that we can’t go back in time and all that…. I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what else to tell you… really,” and Marco felt how his throat started to close and a knot was starting to appear. 

 

When Marco stopped talking he felt a pair of arms holding him tight; those arms that he hadn’t felt in such a long time: it was Jean who was hugging and cuddling him. 

 

Both men had missed each other and neither the apologies nor the guilt could do something for the past that was already in the past, so Jean made the decision to hold even tighter to the other man that was in his arms. It felt warm. His hair was still of the same shade of black and soft as before. The few freckles he had on the back of his neck were still there, intact as the last night that he had observed them many years ago in a different season of the year. 

 

The inevitable happened and they kissed. It was timid kiss as first, full of apologies that wanted to leave both pair of lips, then a feel of sadness was all over them all of a sudden. Nostalgic, remembering how to kiss each other had felt in the past. Then they were happy and the euphoria ran around them. They touched each other’s faces, each other hair, whispering words… In each one of the stages of that kiss, there was a separation, a look in their eyes, whispers that mixed with the touch of their lips telling every 5 seconds how much they had missed this. 

 

They were in a park and suddenly they were in a room in which neither of them had been in before in that big city. Their kisses had been so demolishing and passionate that they weren’t able to stay away from each other since the moment they had entered the room. They took everything on their way until they reached a wall, the one which was closer to them where they could finally put their lips together. In that room, they were able to be themselves again. In that room, they could moan, cry and at moment yell each other for all of the past years that had left them so hurt deep inside their souls. They made it to the bed were neither of them had been before. After a while, it stopped being strange and foreign to be around each other again to start being known again. 

 

Desperate kisses, touches, rage, missing pieces and missing each other. Love and hate, all in one. All in and encounter that they knew it was going to be the last. 

 

The last time they saw each other it wasn’t that last time they had said goodbye after they had dressed up to go out of that small motel with nothing else than their wallets, their phones and their jackets to face the cold weather after the rain in that city in which the clock marked 11 pm already. It wasn’t either that time when they met again a couple of weeks later in the same market they had met the first time. The kiss they shared behind that motel room, that had been the last time. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading up to here! c: <3 <3 Hope you like it ! 
> 
> This fic is actually a translation of one of my fic hahaha ("La Última" in Spanish). I wrote like a year ago and in that moment of my life I only wanted to write sad and angst fics :c but now I want to write a happy jeanmarco fics (yay!) 
> 
> Well, so for a while I had this idea of Jean and Marco not ending up together; I wanted to write a long fic first, but this oneshot came out (:
> 
> This fic was inspired by a friend of a friend who had a similar story to the one in this fic, so I took it and here we are. Shit happens, even in real life ;; 
> 
> Any kind of review, comments, corrections about my grammar/spelling/vocabulary, love or hate demonstrations will be appreciated <3 <3\. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading up to here and for reading the fic <3 <3 
> 
> See you soon (: <3 <3 <3


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